Page 12 of Home Grown Talent

He was grateful when her attention was interrupted by the arrival of a man at her shoulder.

“Hello, old thing!” the man said.

Misty looked up, surprised, then beamed when she saw who it was. “Austin! Bloody hell, I might’ve known I’d see you here!”

He laughed, bending down for a quick mwah mwah on each cheek, and they began to talk in low voices.

Owen eyed the man, wondering if he was famous. He was pretty nondescript. Average height, average build. Average beard. Dark hair and little shoe-button eyes behind squarish, heavy-rimmed glasses. Austin. The name didn’t ring any bells, and he didn’t look familiar, but then, Owen wasn’t really into TV. As he looked away, he caught a glimpse of Jay and was surprised by the tight expression on his handsome face and the way he angled his body away from the new arrival.

Beside him, Tag said, “Shall I top you up?”

Owen turned to find Tag holding a wine bottle aloft.

“Um, I’m fine,” he said. He’d barely touched his wine yet, which had only just been poured.

“Mason isn’t,” Tag said, leaning past him. “More wine, Mason?” Sure enough, Mason’s glass was empty.

“Yeah, why not,” Mason said, though he sounded more weary than enthused. “I’m going to need a lot of booze to get me through this. Awards dinners are so fucking long.”

Tag topped up his glass. “Well, you’ve probably been to a ton of them,” he said. “I’m a newbie, so I’m excited.”

Mason looked briefly chagrined. “Ignore me. It’s just—it’s been a week, you know? I’m kind of—” He stopped.

“Peopled out?” Tag suggested, his tone part sympathy, part humour.

Mason smiled. “Something like that.”

The man—Austin—moved away, and Misty turned back to them.

“Imagine seeing Austin here!” she said, flipping her hair back in a preening gesture. “I can’t believe it.”

Owen turned his head to Tag and murmured, “Who’s Austin?”

“Journalist,” Tag whispered back. “He writes a column for one of the big papers. Does quite a lot of reviews. TV and films mostly.”

Was it that surprising to run into a TV critic at a TV awards ceremony? Owen wondered, eyeing Misty.

She turned to Jay. “You were very quiet. I thought you and Austin knew each other?”

Jay’s expression was closed. He shrugged. “We went to the same school.” His tone did not invite further conversation on the point, and after a moment of silence, Misty took the hint. She turned to Naomi.

“I told Austin we have to get him on the show,” she said. “Pop a reminder in my diary to give him a call on Monday, and get us a table somewhere half-decent for lunch mid-week.”

Naomi, who had been trying to eat her bread roll, hurriedly dropped it back onto her plate and bent down to fetch her iPad. Jesus, did she ever get a break?

That train of thought was interrupted by Tag saying waspishly, “I suppose he’s beneath your notice now that you’re so famous?”

Owen glanced at Tag, surprised by the uncharacteristic venom in his voice, but Tag didn’t even notice his look. His own gaze—glare, really—was trained on Jay.

Jay stiffened with offence. “We’re not friends. Do you keep up with everyone you went to school with?”

“No, but I’d say fucking hello to them if they were standing right next to me,” Tag shot back.

Owen leaned back in his chair and glanced at Mason. “Do they always bicker like this?” he asked under his breath as Jay and Tag continued sniping at one another.

Mason gave a huff of unamused laughter. “Yeah. I don’t think they even notice the rest of us are here.” As though to illustrate the point, he swiped Jay’s still mostly full glass of champagne from the table and necked it in one go. His own champagne glass was empty, his wine glass newly topped-up by Tag. His bread roll hadn’t been touched. Owen glanced at him, noting the slight flush over his cheekbones.

Reaching for the water jug, Owen poured out two glasses, sliding one casually in front of Mason.